Poet. Ay, that's well known:
But what particular rarity? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
10Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.

Painter. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
To the great lord.

Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me.
30Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself and like the current flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
35

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood
of visitors.
I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: my free drift
60Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.
65

Poet. I will unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slippery creatures as
Of grave and austere quality, tender down
70Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
75Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
80Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
85One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

Painter. 'Tis conceived to scope.
90This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the sleepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.
95

Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on.
All those which were his fellows but of late,
Some better than his value, on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
100Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air.

Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants
105Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Painter. 'Tis common:
A thousand moral paintings I can show
110That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.
[Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself]115courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from
VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other
servants following]

Messenger. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt,
120His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up; which failing,
Periods his comfort.

Timon. Noble Ventidius! Well;
125I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he must need me. I do know him
A gentleman that well deserves a help:
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt,
and free him.
130

Old Athenian. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclined to thrift;
And my estate deserves an heir more raised
Than one which holds a trencher.
150

Old Athenian. One only daughter have I, no kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost
155In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;
Myself have spoke in vain.

Timon. This gentleman of mine hath served me long:
To build his fortune I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
180And make him weigh with her.

Old Athenian. Most noble lord,
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

Timon. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
190Go not away. What have you there, my friend?

Painter. A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Your lordship to accept.

Timon. Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
195or since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.
200

Timon. A more satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.

Jeweller. My lord, 'tis rated
As those which sell would give: but you well know,
210Things of like value differing in the owners
Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

Messenger. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
280All of companionship.

Timon. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.
[Exeunt some Attendants]You must needs dine with me: go not you hence
Till I have thank'd you: when dinner's done,
285Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.
[Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest]Most welcome, sir!

Apemantus. So, so, there!
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
290That there should be small love 'mongst these
sweet knaves,
And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
Into baboon and monkey.

Alcibiades. Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed
295Most hungerly on your sight.

Timon. Right welcome, sir!
Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

First Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
320The very heart of kindness.

Second Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
325All use of quittance.